


Mortality

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When it's over," he began, "when…." Eren hesitated, then repeated, "When it's over…I want you to be there."</p>
<p>Set during chapter 51--Eren and Armin coming to terms with what will happen to them after Eren returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mortality

The edge of the cot bent and squeaked under Armin's weight as he sat down beside Eren. He listened to the sounds of people talking and hurrying around outside the door, oddly distant from where he and Eren sat in silence and darkness.

"You should try to get some sleep," Armin said, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears.

Eren just looked at him, his expression blank, before focusing on the floor again. Someone just outside the door shouted and Armin jumped, his shoulder knocking into Eren's. He could still feel the last vestiges of adrenaline in his veins, leaving him jittery and aching. He took a breath, his chest tight and constricted. His eyes burned when he blinked.

"It's almost dawn," he said, trying again. "We'll probably be moving out tomorrow…at least try to—"

"Armin."

Armin broke off at the flatness in Eren's voice. He wanted to say something, but it felt wrong somehow with how Eren was looking at him, with how red and sunken his eyes were, with how pallid his face was in the dim strips of light coming through the grimy window.

He waited instead for Eren to continue, but he only turned back to look blankly downward. Armin watched him, watched the stillness in his frame—devoid of the burning energy that usually seemed to radiate off him. It was odd, disconcerting, made Armin feel as though he were looking through a warped window like the kind that hung crookedly in their frames in the old houses in Shiganshina. He could still see Eren…could still recognize him, but he was muted and twisted.

It was frightening enough that Armin found himself reaching out before he could think anything of it. His hand came to rest on Eren's forearm, and the skin was warm—burning—under his fingertips. When he looked up again, Eren was watching him.

Armin hesitated, then slowly retracted his hand. He hadn't managed to replace it in his lap before Eren had grabbed at him, lacing their fingers tightly together. It'd been years since they'd done this, even something as innocent as holding hands.

Eren's grip hurt, but Armin tried not to show it because sometimes Eren needed to hurt, even in small ways, even in ways that he didn't realize, so Armin closed off his pain and watched their knuckles turn white under the pull of Eren's anger. And he  _was_  angry. Armin could see it in the sudden shake to his shoulders, the tendons straining in his neck. Where before he'd been frighteningly still, now he was pulling apart, cracking under the strain of keeping himself together—the glass breaking.

"I'm sorry," Armin said, needing Eren to know, needing to say it now before Eren fell down too far to reach. "Eren, I'm so sorry."

Eren made a choked sound, hanging his head low. Armin could see him grinding his teeth even as he groaned through them, even as the hand around Armin's tightened enough for Armin to almost pull away. Instead he gripped back as tight as he could manage, feeding Eren's rage and injustice as much as he could.

He wasn't crying. His eyes were dry when he looked up at Armin again, but there was a flatness there that Armin recognized, that Armin had seen for so long it made him wonder if he'd just made up the time as children when he imagined it wasn't there.

"It'll be—" He stopped, backtracked. "We—all of us—will be all right," he said instead because that was what was important now, that all three of them were alive.

Eren just continued to look at him. Then suddenly he glanced down at where their fingers were twined and loosened his grip. Armin stifled his sigh of relief.

It only lasted a moment before the voices from outside rose in pitch, and the swelling noise seemed to bolster Eren up, made him rile where he sat on the bed, his shoulders hunching, his face flushing. His fingers tightened again.

"Eren—"

"I remember," Eren said, loud, and Armin pressed his lips together. "Mikasa and I—we were right there—and you—" He was staring at the opposite wall, eyes wide, the edges of his mouth downturned, his eyebrows drawn in. "You weren't with us."

Armin swallowed, shifted just a little closer to him on their cot, making it squeak. He flinched, wondering if the noise would set Eren off, but despite looking so angry, despite beginning to tremble, Eren seemed somewhere else entirely. "I couldn't leave Jean," he said. "Not there. Not—"

"You should have been with  _us_ ," Eren said, but there was no heat in his voice, only a hollow plea that Armin recognized because he could feel it in himself whenever he thought of the three of them being separated, of not being together anymore.

Armin swallowed. "It doesn't matter now, it's…we're OK, Eren."

Eren shook his head. He brought his hands toward his face, seemingly forgetting that he was still holding Armin's hand. He hesitated, didn't let Armin go but ended up pulling him closer, until the two of them were pressed side-to-side on the edge of the cot. His eyes followed the line of Armin's arm up to his face.

"When it's over," he began, "when…." Eren hesitated, then repeated, "When it's over…I want you to be there."

The first rays of dawn sunlight began to slowly edge their way into the room as he and Eren looked at each other. Armin squinted against the gathering light, shaking his head. "Eren, don't—"

"Armin," Eren said, and the snap in his voice was clear and sharp, forcing Armin to jerk back, but Eren still had a grip on his hand and pulled him forward again, and he went willingly. "Armin," he said, softening, his face crumpling, his eyes beginning to well.

"Eren…" But he didn't know what to say after that, how to tell Eren to not think about that because maybe Eren was right and Armin was wrong. Maybe they needed to talk about this now, before it was too late, now while they still had time to plan, to decide their last goodbyes...to die on their own terms.

"I will," he said, in part to appease Eren and in part because he meant it because at the end of everything Armin didn't want to be with anyone else. "I'll be th—"

He wasn't expecting the collision of faces when it came. Eren rammed into him harsh, his mouth hard and hot and off-center against Armin's for just a brief moment before he pulled back again.

"OK," Eren said, breathing heavy and face flushed. He didn't quite look Armin in the eyes as he unwound their fingers entirely and instead put his hands on Armin's shoulders. "Good. Then when…when…it'll be the three of us. You promise?"

Armin swallowed, his mouth dry. He thought of Mrs. Jaeger, of Hannes, of all the people Eren had lost or almost lost, and it was unnerving to hear him talk about death like this—in a way that focused on acceptance, on planning, on the inevitable. Armin's own death had been cemented in his mind since the moment he'd joined the military, but Eren and Mikasa were a different breed—more valuable, more talented…more determined to live.

He lifted his hands, wrapping his fingers around Eren's wrists. He could see Eren beginning to roil, to get anxious, winding tighter. Armin tried to direct the energy somewhere else, returning the favor and leaning forward.

One reason, Armin had always thought, that he and Eren had managed to be friends for so long, was that they lacked what the other had. Where Eren was brusque and hard with his affection, Armin was soft, pressing his lips to Eren's slowly and gently, until Eren's fingers were digging into his shoulders, until Eren was shivering seemingly with the need to fly apart but pulling himself in.

Eren breathed out hard when Armin pulled away just enough to open his eyes and look at him. Eren's eyebrows were drawn in again, almost as though he were in pain, and one of Armin's hands left Eren's wrist in favor of resting against his cheek.

"Eren?"

His throat rolled. He said, "I don't think I can sleep."

Armin lowered his hands. Eren followed suit, palms trailing down Armin's arms briefly before returning them to his lap.

"We can talk," Armin said.

Eren didn't respond, just let his gaze drift somewhere over Armin's shoulder.

"Or…just sit," Armin amended. "If that's better."

Eren glanced at him briefly, then looked away, toward the small window. For a while, it was quiet. Even the noises outside had calmed somewhat. Armin figured that most of the injured parties must have been tended to. All that was left then was for everyone else to watch, and wait, and plan.

To plan…. If Jean was right, and their numbers were as depleted as he said, then Armin struggled to see how the Scouting Legion could continue without any new recruits. New recruits that would be reluctant to join a regiment that had lost so many of its members…. The only power they had on their side at this point was Eren's titan ability and Historia's knowledge, but….

Armin sneaked a quick peek at Eren. He was still sitting, staring straight ahead, blinking slowly and heavily. They'd have to be protected. They were too valuable to the cause. Surely they'd be taken somewhere and hidden away. And sooner, rather than later…. The hairs on the back of Armin's neck pricked up.

"What is it?"

Armin blinked, realizing that he'd been staring blankly at Eren while he thought. "What?"

"You have that look," Eren said. "Like you know something."

Armin looked down, rubbing his palms against his knees. "I was just thinking…you and Historia are the most important assets to our cause right now. I keep thinking they'll be taking you away soon. Taking you somewhere safe."

"Away?"

Armin nodded, hesitantly meeting Eren's gaze. "Somewhere you'll be out of harm…somewhere no one else knows about."

Eren was quiet for a long moment, but eventually he leaned toward Armin just a bit. "So you think that when we're moved, you and Mikasa and everyone else will be staying behind."

Something thudded dully in the hallway outside. Armin imagined someone slumping briefly against the wall near their room. He swallowed. "I'm not sure. I guess it depends on what Commander Erwin says."

The sudden distress in Eren's expression took Armin aback, and he reached for Eren at the same moment Eren grabbed at him. Their hands met messily between them, colliding and sliding against each other until they managed to link their fingers together.

Eren said, "I'll talk to him. To—to the Commander, or Captain Levi. I'll—"

Armin shook his head. "Eren, I don't even know if I'm right. I just—"

"You're always right," Eren said, fingers squeezing tight around Armin's, eyes wide and intent.

Dawn had well and truly broken by then, illuminating the tufts and knots of Eren's hair. The shadows under his eyes were even more accentuated, along with the puffiness of his eyelids that always lingered after he cried. Armin said, "Not always."

Eren's expression remained frozen for a moment, then his eyelids drooped. He sighed. His fingers relaxed. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Armin's shoulder, resting their hands on the thin mattress between them.

"It'll be the three of us," Eren said, his voice clear and inflectionless. "You promised."

"Eren—"

"You promised." Then Eren leaned up, leaned back, just enough to put them face to face, for Armin to be able to count each and every bloodshot line that crisscrossed the whites of his eyes.

Armin breathed out slowly, glanced down at the paleness of Eren's lips. Eren's tongue darted out as Armin watched and something within him jerked, tightened, and then he was meeting Eren's eyes again, saying, "Oh." Then, before he could stop himself, "Can I—"

But Eren was nodding, already leaning in.  _Easy_ , was the first thing Armin thought when Eren met him. It felt so  _easy_. Maybe they'd never done this before that day, but it was already so easy for Armin to know what Eren would do, how he'd react when Armin sucked at his lower lip, when Armin squeezed his fingers and pressed closer.

He anticipated the sudden shiver in Eren's body, expected the hard press of Eren's mouth against his, aggressive and sloppy. What he hadn't predicted was the little noises Eren made in the back of his throat, the way he unwound their fingers to hold Armin's face between his hands and pull him closer.

What he hadn't meant to do was mimic Eren's noises with his own, hadn't realized he would be so affected by hot breath and a hard mouth and—when Eren tilted his head back even more, pressed right up against Armin until their hips were touching, their torsos twisted toward each other—slick tongue. The tightness in his belly only grew, his hands beginning to shake against the front of Eren's shirt where he'd laid them as much as Eren's hands on his face.

They stopped only when Eren pulled away. He was flushed, breathing quick, and held Armin's gaze as he lifted a hand to wipe the spit from his chin. Armin watched, feeling the flush on his cheeks reach down his neck in humiliation. "S—sorry," he said, glancing away, only glancing back when Eren reached for him again.

And it was the noises that Armin couldn't stand, that wound him higher and tighter until he couldn't think of anything else except Eren's voice and smell and the sour taste of his mouth that Armin didn't even care about because he was too busy feeling the wet and the  _hot_  and the slick of their tongues sliding together, and their lips catching and pressing and sticking together as they moved together.

Armin was the first to pull back this time, not giving himself a moment to look at Eren's face before he pressed his forehead to his neck. Eren's hand curled around his nape, and Armin could feel his breath gushing hot down his back, stirring the hair at the back of his neck, and he almost pulled away again, almost couldn't handle even that much. His hand was clenched in a fist resting on his thigh as it was, just to be certain he wouldn't touch, wouldn't do something to show how much he'd been affected already, how badly he wanted to do something else but was too scared to.

He stayed pressed against Eren's side until the blush had dulled from his cheeks, until he could feel the sunlight warming his side, until the tightness in his belly had receded enough for him to pull away and look up.

Eren's eyes were closed, his breathing steady. When Armin pulled back even more, he dislodged Eren's hand on his neck, causing it to thud down to the cot. Eren swayed where he sat, and Armin just managed to catch him by the arms and slow his fall back onto the cot before he toppled over completely.

Armin let his eyes stray over the smooth lines of Eren's face, let himself look at his lips and know what they tasted like, felt like. The sunlight pushed through the dust-caked window and illuminated the room, and the cot where Eren lay, sprawled and finally asleep. Footsteps approached their room and Armin tensed until they faded into the distance again. Not yet, then. They still had a little time…

Armin touched the back of Eren's hand, gently, tracing a blue vein that stood out over the bone. Then he turned his head, the light catching him in the eye and making his vision wash out white before returning, sparking his sight with spots of color whenever he blinked slowly.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
